A Place To Go
by EmbersBlaze
Summary: First story of mine. Sara’s reaction to the return of Lady Heather and Grissom’s involvement in the encounter.
1. Chapter 1: A Place To Go

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of the characters contained in this story, which is

not for profit of any kind.

Author's Note: First story of mine. Sara's reaction to the return of Lady Heather and

Grissom's involvement in the encounter.

**A Place To Go**

There was no way at all that this could have turned out well.

Logically, she knew that and had known that nothing good would come of the situation. She had been prepared. Or at least that's what she had told herself.

When Sara had gotten the call that Lady Heather had nearly been murdered, she tried to calm herself down by thinking that at least this time she would help work the case. She would know what was happening without having to rely on office gossip. And she had learned something, too.

Ignorance is bliss.

She had thought she wanted to know, rather than be kept out of the loop. But she had been about ready to kill Catherine herself if she hadn't shut up. Now she knew (well suspected right along with Catherine, because how could she not) that Grissom really _had _slept with Lady Heather, and it was coloring all of her perceptions around him now.

_Come on, that whole "she's strong" comment? Like I didn't know what you were thinking!_

She wasn't a jealous person, but damn if this wasn't upsetting her, and she didn't want to admit it to herself, much less him.

Which was why she had told him to do what he had to do when she didn't really mean it. She had tried to mean it, she really had. She had even joked with him about the lipstick on the glass from the scene, had smiled at him. But then he called her and told her he would be at Heather's house talking with her for a while, because he was worried about her and had to help in some way. He was such an upstanding gentleman. She hated him. Well, not really, but part of her really hadn't wanted to know that. Yes, it was good that he called and told her, was trying to keep her in the loop, but he was her boyfriend and for once in her life she was going to let herself feel possessive.

Even if she couldn't admit it.

And that was how she had ended up here. Grissom had gone over to see Heather again after work, and she had said okay as she was leaving, and then she had gone home. But she'd only stayed there long enough to put the leash on Bruno.

Sara had decided that what she really needed right now was some alone time to work things out, but then she had altered that plan to include Bruno, because she really needed someone who needed her at the moment. And it was okay to admit that to the dog, because unless he learned human, he wasn't telling.

She knew Grissom would never think to look for her at the park, because she would not usually think to go to the park. Too busy most of the time. But she had grown up a California girl, albeit one that rarely had time to go to the beach because of school work and family problems, but she loved the water nonetheless. She had maybe forgotten that a little bit in the last few years. But this is what made her and Bruno kindred such spirits. He may follow Grissom around constantly, but Sara gave him his baths, and they both loved it.

So, what better place to spend time with him and make herself feel better at the same time than at a park right near the lake?

Bruno was splashing around in the shallow water barking at things under the surface, and she was watching him with a smile on her face. Sara couldn't remember the last time she had felt so good with the sun on her skin. But that's what working nights will do to you, that and she was probably lacking in a few essential sun-provided vitamins.

For the first time since the beginning of the Lady Heather case, she was content with Grissom not being right beside her. Yes, he was at _her_ house, but Sara was here with their dog, having a good time. That was what made her feel the best. She was having a good time without him, even if he was with _her_, and not wallowing, wondering what was happening. She hadn't thought she could feel that way.

Suddenly, Sara was having an odd and slightly frightening realization. Maybe that's why Grissom needed that sabbatical so much. Maybe he needed to remember that he would be okay without her. But she hadn't done anything to cause him to think he would have to worry about that. Hell, she hadn't stayed up all night talking to Hank had she? Not that that would ever happen, but she now associated Hank with Lady Heather and misery and that particular and indefinable time in their lives when they had wanted so much to be together but weren't. Which was Grissom's fault, of course.

Well, if that was the case, maybe Sara should take a vacation of her own. Not a sabbatical, that was too drastic. But maybe she could just go away for a few days. Maybe back to San Francisco, where she could visit an old friend or two. Better yet, she could go to the beach. The _real _beach. She hadn't been in forever, not since she moved to Vegas. And this sun was making her miss it.

But oddly, the sun didn't feel so warm anymore.


	2. Chapter 2: Planning The Journey

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of the characters contained in this story, which is not for profit of any kind.

A/N: It took me a really long time to post this, but I think I know where to go with it now. Originally, I had just planned to use the season finale to direct me where to go, based on spoilers that did not happen (teach me to rely on those), so I had to figure out where to go by myself and got kind of lost in my wanderings apparently . . .

**Planning The Journey**

She had it all planned out in her head. It was the perfect cover. Sara knew she needed to regain some balance, and to do that, she needed to distance herself a bit. Up so close and personal was her relationship with Grissom that her perspective was skewed. Backing away a little now that she was so unsure would let her see the big picture again. So she was taking a vacation. Just a week or so. Now normally, this would set off all kinds of alarm bells in the minds of all her coworkers, since Sara rarely, if ever took that much time off. But it was all about timing and position. Kind of like a game of war. And her strategy was perfect.

Now, as far as anyone knew, she had "taken some time off" three years ago, right after the near DUI that no one actually knew about. So it wasn't _completely_ unheard of for her to take a vacation.

_Never before would I have thought that I'd be grateful for the consequences of _that_. But I guess there's a silver lining to everything,_ she thought to herself.

As far as everyone's concerns, though, she just needed to put them at rest. This was where Wendy was un-knowingly going to help her out. Sara had left before the woman showed up at the San Francisco crime lab, but others of her colleagues were now mutual friends. So, Sara was going to visit a one Monica Morales, who, Sara knew, still kept in regular contact with both she and Wendy. So, Sara would just casually introduce the subject to Wendy sometime in the next few days, and they would have a nice old chat about their friends in San Fran. And then Wendy would act as a calming agent for anyone on night shift that doubted the veracity of Sara's claim that she was going on vacation. The perfect plan.

And the perfect excuse to indulge in the perfect vice.

Though Sara had missed it since she'd been in Vegas, every year in SF she'd gone to the most tantalizing and heavenly party on Earth: the Chocolate Festival.

For a surprisingly small price, anyone could get in all day and eat as much chocolate as he or she could hold from some of the best chocolate makers around. It was divine, and her mouth watered just thinking about it.

In fact, Sara couldn't believe she'd missed it six years in a row. Now was the perfect time for her to reintroduce herself.

She thought all this as she walked briskly to her car in the parking deck. Running late for once, because she'd been so swept up in her plans, she would have to hurry to get to work before . . .

"Sara ?"


	3. Chapter 3: Delays

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of the characters contained within this story, which is not for profit in any way.

A/N: I don't claim to be an expert or to have any of the details correct, but the Chocolate Festival that Sara remembered so fondly in the last chapter was based on a true event that I believe is held annually. I don't know the time of year for instance, or anything specific, so I took some artistic liberties. But rest assured, I will someday make it there. : ) And this chapter is rather odd. I'll try to post the next chapter soon to make up for the utter weirdness that is this one.

**Delays**

It's odd, the things that go through your mind when there's nothing else there to inhibit them. Like the fact that Sara really loved physics. Much more than other things, like statistics. In statistics, you always had to worry about being on the wrong side of the numbers. Growing up the way she had, Sara had always had to fight to be in the lonely and small percentage that beat the odds.

But in physics, everything just was what it was. Everything acted under a strict set of rules under the conditions that surrounded it at the exact moment in which it existed, and there were no good or bad numbers. Numbers just were.

Sara recognized this feeling, where her mind went blank and random thoughts would pop up to fill it. The same thing had happened when she'd fallen off her bike at a friend's house in the sixth grade. She'd been riding in the cul-de-sac, waiting for her friend to come out, when she'd hit a rock or something and gone down hard, sideways. Her head had been the first thing to hit, and it had bounced on the curb. In the daze caused by a mild concussion, Sara had stood up in a hazy, surreal state of mind, where thoughts in her head passed very slowly. Though her arm and knee were scraped up badly, she barely even noticed.

And then a guy who lived in the house in front of where she crashed came jogging up to her and asked if she was alright. And then he'd asked if she wanted to come inside and sit down for a minute until she felt better.

And only one thought jumped, screaming into little Sara's delirious head: you shouldn't talk to strangers. And you especially should not go into a stranger's house.

She was about to pass out, could barely stand, and the words formed slowly, but she managed to tell him no, that she was okay, and her friend's house was just a few yards away.

They had made their way to her friend's house, with the man repeating his question several times and Sara continually refusing. She had healed and been fine.

But, in retrospect, Sara had always wondered if that little, screaming thought had saved her from an awful, awful fate. Because that man had been oddly persistent to take a strange, injured child into his house alone.

Only Sara couldn't figure out why she had that delirious feeling now. Whenever she tried to think about it, she couldn't hold onto the thoughts. And yet she didn't seem to have any problem at all holding onto the random thoughts in her head.

And right now, she was thinking that she shouldn't be swimming alone. It was dangerous; you should always have a partner.

Such an odd thought, but as she'd learned in the sixth grade, those random thoughts could be the most important, so she tried to follow it.

She couldn't quite force her eyes open to look for a swimming partner, so she tried to feel around with the one hand that seemed capable of movement. Her fist curled around dirt or . . . not dirt exactly. More like mud, or highly saturated sand. Sand . . . was she at the beach maybe? No, she couldn't be, because that wasn't salt water. If it was, it would be burning those cuts. Cuts . . . that came from where? Suddenly, Sara was in a lot of pain. She couldn't remember what had happened, but she knew it had been bad, and the water was starting to accumulate in the small space around her.

And once again, Sara Sidle was fighting to stay on the right side of the numbers.


	4. Chapter 4: State of Mind

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of the characters contained within this story, which is not for profit in any way.

A/N: Thanks to all the people who reviewed!!

** State of Mind**

As Sara Sidle returned to full alertness, she seriously missed the delirious state, because the realizations and memories that were hitting her now were terrifying. Icy cold panic was rolling down her spine in waves and tingling over her scalp. Her breath came in shuddering gasps, and, God help her, tears were welling in her eyes.

Trying to pull herself together, she took a deep breath. However, not only did she succeed in sucking in water, but a searing pain shot through her chest as well. Spluttering and closing her eyes against the pain, Sara struggled to remember what had happened. She remembered the woman calling her name. Sara had turned around and tried to place the woman's face but couldn't.

"I'm sorry; do I know you?"

"Not really. I'm Natalie."

That was what did it. Flashback to a recent conversation with Grissom. Dell foster child, first name Natalie. Miniature killer. And the taser had come from out of nowhere.

Sara groaned at the memory. For a second, she just let the awful situation sink in. And it was truly horrendous. The water that she had previously thought she was swimming in was actually rain. Torrential rain. And she wasn't at the beach; she had to be in the desert. Talk about polar opposites. After Natalie taser-ed her, she must have drugged her too, to keep her unconscious while she moved her.

Sara groaned again.

Though she couldn't really move at all, and the water in her eyes wasn't helping any, something about the shape and smell of the large thing she was trapped under had her seriously thinking it might be a car.

Pinned under a car in a freak flood out in the middle of the desert.

Her situation did not look good, and Sara couldn't stop a wave of scared self-pity from rolling over her and bringing with it fresh tears. Grissom's face popped into her head. The sound of his voice in her ear. The way he looked at her sometimes that would tell her volumes without saying a single word. Had she really been doubting their relationship just a little while ago? How long had it been since Natalie had taken her away from her plans to go to San Francisco?

It all just seemed so silly now. Grissom loved her. She remembered the letter she'd read in which he'd quoted Shakespeare's Sonnet 47. She thought of the petrified look on his face when he'd run in the room thinking she was being attacked at the scene of the murdered showgirl roommates, and her heart hurt. Surely he knew she was missing by now. She just wanted to have him hold her close and tell her it would be okay. _They_ would be okay.

But dwelling on the hopelessness that was her current situation would not make it any better. She didn't want to wallow; she had to think of a way out of this mess!

Suddenly, it wasn't Grissom she was thinking about. It was Nick. Nick in a glass coffin, buried alive and struggling to breathe while they searched for him two years ago. He'd been so brave and worked so hard to move past the horror of his abduction.

And now, as rain and tears slid down her face, Sara vowed that if . . . no . . . no, _when_ her friends came to take her home, she would give her life everything she had. She wouldn't be afraid to live it. She would be as brave as Nick had been.


End file.
